


Addictive

by WhyMrSpook



Series: That was called falling. [2]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles You Slut, Erik Has Feelings, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Gay Mutant Road Trip, Hotel Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 08:48:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8198777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyMrSpook/pseuds/WhyMrSpook
Summary: "Raven says I never really learned to think before I speak."“Do you think it’s going to get you in to trouble, one day?”“One can only hope, darling.” Charles and Erik unwind in a hotel mid-road trip and, amid discussing mutations and Erik battling his growing feelings for Charles, they wind up abandoning their chess game in favour of bed.





	

Erik wasn’t losing this particular Chess match. Not yet. Charles was easily distracted. His brain worked so rapidly he failed to focus on the board as it currently was, ignoring present positions and imagining possible future ones. Erik wasn’t so forward thinking. He took his time and treated each chess piece as they were supposed to be treated- with calculated sacrifices and advancements into new territories. The game wasn’t unlike his relationship with Charles. The sacrifices came in delaying his search for Shaw and wasting his time recruiting mere children, but the advances were undeniably enjoyable.

“You said you involuntarily hear when I’m thinking too loudly.” Erik pointed out, after Charles stole his knight, pouring himself more wine. Charles had chosen this hotel, high on the success of having recruited a cabbie with adaptive abilities, and so tonight they slept in luxury. “How can I be certain that this-“ He gestured blandly to the board, “- isn’t down to my chess skills, but to your poor control?”

There was a brief flash of something in Charles’ eyes. Not anger. He’d barely ever caught Charles’ looking angry, no matter how much he tried to provoke him during their discussions, and he wasn’t entirely sure why he even wanted to see it. There had to be a reason that dear, sweet Charles was always so infuriatingly calm. Erik had never seen him meditate, in any case.

No, the flash wasn’t anger. It was hurt. There for less than a second before those big blue eyes stopped boring so painfully into his soul and cast down at his own wine as he drank- a gulp too large for the dignified professor.

“I’ve been in control of my power since I was twelve years old, thank you very much.” He replied, indignantly, as though the hurt had never existed. It intrigued Erik, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He felt like he was missing something about Charles. It was unfair, in a way, that Charles could know everything about him in an instant but he would never know Charles.

“Then why is it you find it harder to think than speak when I’m fucking you?” He asked, barely fighting a smirk. It was hard not to be smug about that particular aspect of sex with Charles- nothing quite compared to watching the eloquent Professor lose all control.

Charles leaned back in his chair, with the same ease he always had. His hair was ruffled from mostly innocent earlier activities and the curves of his face were illuminated only by soft lamplight. He looked divine. “People speak without thinking all the time.” He replied, conversationally, with blatant disregard for Erik’s self-satisfaction. “You wouldn’t believe how fast the brain can transmit signals to speak without pausing to contemplate the effect of one’s words. When you are, as you so eloquently put, fucking me- mental transmissions are much more base. I could send you feelings and emotions and everything I’m experiencing, but thinking words is much harder than saying them out loud on impulse.”

_Raven says I never really learned to think before I speak._

Erik frowned. Raven had a point. Charles was often straight to the point- he outed McCoy to his colleagues without hesitation, even if he did immediately realise his mistake. And from what Erik knew of the man so far, he did regularly say things that both offended others and got himself into trouble. It didn’t seem unreasonable, though, given the man’s ridiculous brain capacity. He thought so rapidly that he forgot to focus on the current words coming out of his mouth- not unlike the way he approached a game of chess. But that didn’t necessarily mean Raven was entirely right either. There had been moments of distant uneasiness- phrases that didn’t really fit with everything else Charles presented to people as his personality. Things that made him doubt everything he thought he knew about the man.

 _She’s wrong._ He replied, taking a move with a sweep of his hand. _Isn’t she?_

Charles’ eyes flicked up tensely, searching him like he was looking for a missing puzzle piece. It was almost amusing. If anyone was a mystery here, it was Charles. Charles knew everything about him- there was nothing to be confused about.

“Yes.” He admitted out loud. “When my mutation first showed itself, I had a very hard time coming to terms with what I knew and what I was supposed to know. It was a minor inconvenience is all. Nothing like Raven’s mutation. I just had to learn to react to what people were saying instead of what they were about to say.” He flashed Erik a bright, false smile. “I still slip up sometimes, of course, but don’t we all?”

He was trying to change the subject- trying to lighten the mood. This was the Charles he knew. The one who didn’t dare let himself appear downbeat, not for a moment.

“Hm.” Erik decided he’d let him. He placed his wine glass down carefully. “Do you think it’s going to get you in to trouble, one day?”

“One can only hope, darling.” Charles climbed out of his chair and onto Erik’s lap, settling himself neatly on his legs. The movement, by now, was so seamless and they’d only been travelling together for ten days. Erik wrapped his arms around Charles’ waist, holding him up as the man’s nimble fingers began teasing his collar. Their lips crushed together in a fashion so unlike anything he tried to compare it to. Charles’ mouth was hot and inviting and his tongue so wickedly talented.

_You are so very addictive, Erik._

Charles’ voice in his head was calm and composed and completely sincere. It was almost startling. He seemed to alternate, depending on his mood. More often than not, he was playful and teasing in bed until he was too distracted to even speak, let alone think. He was the entitled Englishman, desperate and loud for Erik. But twice now he’d acted like this; like there was nothing in the world but Erik and the desire he felt for him, echoed in his mind and his words, was the only clarity he felt.

Erik dragged his lips down the younger man’s throat, teeth scraping ever so lightly at his collar bone. _I think that says more about you than it does about me._

 _Oh, I don’t doubt it._ Charles laughed into his hair. _I’m an addict._ He added, gasping sharply as Erik moved his lips down his chest, careless ripping off buttons to free Charles’ chest. He teased the man’s nipples in turn, grinning wickedly at Charles, already squirming on his lap.

_But you’re still thinking, aren’t you?_

Charles’ eyes were too big, too blue, still too sincere. He looked at Erik in wonder, like he was staring up at the moon and stars.

 _I never think when I’m with you, Erik._ He admitted, the presence in his head almost ethereal. “I can’t help it. I’m just with you.” Out loud, his voice was possibly just as fragile. If he couldn’t see him, Erik might have thought Charles was about to cry. As it happened, his eyes were no longer glassy. Hands lost in Erik’s hair, he took a breathy gasp when Erik reached a hand down to his crotch and palmed him through his trousers.

“No- I want you inside me- I need you inside me Erik-“

The pressure was almost unbearable. Swaying only lightly on one too many glasses of expensive wine, Erik wrapped his hands around Charles tightly and stood, carrying him with moderate success; he probably dropped him a little too hard onto the bed, but the Professor just grinned, kicking his trousers off without delay.

Erik followed suit, stripping and climbing onto the bed as though stalking his prey. Charles was a divine creature. His lithe body was so sensitive, so perfect. He wanted to celebrate it, to worship it- so that one day, when all this was over, he would remember every faultless detail about Charles’ skin. The precise shade of his skin, the flush of colour that travelled down his chest- his hands and stomach and goddamn perfect arse. But that wasn’t all Erik wanted. He wanted to ruin it, too. To mark it with bruises and hand-prints. To cover him in come. To make every muscle ache from a single night of sex so, for days afterwards, Charles would feel the effects.

“Yes- Erik-“

Erik grinned again, baring his teeth as he summoned the lube- or, more specifically, the metal tray with lube on. Knowing that Charles could read his mind- could know all his fantasies and desires without Erik having to utter a single word. It was beyond anything he’d ever imagined resided within mutant capabilities- despite the fact Charles was the first mutant he’d ever met, and he really should have realised the true extent of his telepathy sooner. Charles had, after all, told him he knew everything about him almost instantly, in the water.

Charles’ skin was hot to the touch and so very inviting. And the noises he made as Erik’s first finger slipped inside him sent pleasure reeling down his spine, sending shock-waves down his every vein, like the feeling of metal heating up so that it burned to touch. He was beyond thinking now. The good Professor. The charming Englishman who admired all he met, flirted with every reasonably attractive single in the vicinity and, behind closed doors, gave himself entirely over to Erik. Only Erik. He gave his gift- his mind.

“Erik-“ Legs tightened around him, a clear warning that he was taking too long. Perhaps he was, at great cost to himself, but those noises- those addictive sounds as he brushed against Charles’ prostate. He was certainly ready for Erik and it would have taken the patience of a saint to hold back any longer. He slicked himself up quickly, lips hitting Charles’ with bruising force in an effort to hold back his groans. Charles felt exquisite.

“Charles.” It was impossible to stay quiet. Charles made it impossible. He felt so good

“See? Don’t you think thinking is overrated?” At any other moment, Erik might have read more deeply into that statement. Past experience had taught him that nothing was ever meant so simply. For now, though, he took it at face value.

“You would know.”

“Yes- I rather think I would-“ His statement ended in a whimper. Charles clenched, so tight, too tight,  one hand between them bodies and the other on Erik’s back, pulling him in closer and deeper. “Fuck- Erik!”

Relief came like a crushing wave; completely out of the blue. He clung to the lithe, thrusting body beneath him until he thought he could trust himself to breathe or move or speak, lips pressed against the flushed expanse of Charles’ chest until his shaking started to diminish also.

Charles was pet-like in his protests when Erik rolled onto his side, limbs both heavy with exhaustion and weightless at the same time. The feeling was so singularly spectacular, so worryingly enthralling. He wasn’t entirely sure how he would cope when they returned to the CIA base and once more had to retreat to their own private rooms. Not that he was falling for the man, of course. Charles was, admittedly, his friend. By this point, he couldn’t deny that. But now was not the time for a relationship. There would never be time for a relationship. Erik wasn’t built for romance and keeping pretty little English men happy. He was a machine. His heart was metal, strong and secure in his goals. And after he got his revenge… the word peace floated around in his head like the distant ghost of Charles’ consciousness, now fully retreated. Peace seemed just a step too far. Killing Shaw would never bring him peace, but it would be enough, and he would decide his future when the time came.

“Is it always like that for you, Charles?” He asked, attempting to sound only vaguely interested and not overly curious. He forced himself out of bed, darting into the en-suite to collect a washcloth.

“Are you asking if I enjoyed myself, darling, because I _know_ you’re not lacking self-confidence in that regard.” Charles replied, slightly breathless and eyes already closed. His head was still tilted back against his pillow, his throat long and inviting.

“No.” He replied blandly, gliding the cloth against the sensitive skin on his lover so that he swallowed visibly. “I was actually referring to your weakened mental state.”

“Oh.” Charles’ eyes open quickly, locating Erik and looking at him solemnly. “No. No, I’ve always been able to think before. Trust me, it wasn’t always a good thing. But you’re the only person who can reduce me to such base mental transmissions.”

It should have made him feel very smug. In a way, it did. He was unbelievably glad he could make Charles feel like that, glad no-one else could. He was proud of his achievement, and selfishly hopeful that no-one else would or could ever make Charles feel that way.

Overriding all of that was a crisp sensation that flooded his entire body. It was like a bucket of cold water washing over him- not the glorious wave of orgasm, but a shocking and cold smack to the face. It was ice in his veins, chilling his body rapidly. Charles wasn’t exaggerating. He really did find Erik addictive; like using Cerebro or casually entering the minds of any innocent bystander he felt like. Anything to do with his mind, anything that tested his powers, was addictive. In the same way that Erik couldn’t stop feeling all the metal in any room. Couldn’t help but feel the warmth of Charles’ watch and belt and cuff-links. He was just as pathetically dependent.

“Do you think I’m using you?” Charles asked suddenly, eyes wide and nervous. He looked so young, Erik thought, though only a few years separated them. Time hadn’t been quite so kind to him as it had been to Charles- but there were flashes in his eyes, sometimes, or a look on his face where he looked just as old, just as tired. As of now, however, he was purely scared.

“You using me?” Erik repeated, dazedly. “No, Charles, the thought didn’t even cross my mind. Didn’t you notice?”

“I’m not in there anymore, you know that. Only then…” He attempted a smile, but the breath he took was shaky. “We should rest. Tomorrow is a long day.”

Erik didn’t need telling twice. He’d made a point of establishing his dominance in their relationship so far- made a point of sitting up, doing something until Charles fell asleep. Charles hadn’t mentioned it. Maybe he didn’t care as long as he got what he wanted. But tonight, Erik had other plans. He moved up the bed, throwing the cloth in the general direction of the bathroom.

He needed to hold Charles. Charles who deserved far more than what was left of his sorry heart. Charles who knew with complete certainty that Erik was only sticking around to kill Shaw, and yet still worried he was the one using him. The smaller man tensed in his arms for only a moment and then relaxed, lips pressed against Erik’s forearm.

If anyone was being used, it was Charles. Erik had told him as much, before, he thought. He couldn’t deny he liked Charles and he liked sleeping with him too, but a future was impossible. A future was out of the question. The more often he reminded himself of that, the better, lest he fall for Charles’ false positivity and optimism. He had a job to do. A revenge mission, as Charles called it. And, fundamentally, he and Charles were very different men with different views. The more time they spent together, the more apparent that became.

And yet, the more often he told himself that, the more nights he found himself lying awake, unable to contemplate life without Charles in it. He stared down at the man, already sleeping, his warm body pressed against him. A perfect fit. As different as they were, their similarities were just as strong. He admired Charles’ intelligence and power, his wit and anecdotes. He even admired his optimism. The more time they spent together, the harder it became to hate him. The idiot who had dived into the sea to save his life. His friend.


End file.
